Phantoms
by waytoomanyfandoms
Summary: Erik is only just recovering from being left by Christine when he notices that he's not the only one haunting the Opera House...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! So I should probably finish my stories before I start new ones, but I was just in the mood for this one and I was too excited to write it to put it off. So, here you go! ANOTHER POTO fanfic... This takes place kind of right after Christine leaves (I've decided to ignore LND for the sake of this story) so this is kind of the intro to the story. Enjoy! Please favourite, follow, and leave reviews! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the first chapter!  
I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters in it**

My vision dragged in front of me. What was I doing outside? I looked down and noticed I had my cloak on, and I felt my face and was relieved to feel the solid shield that was my mask still in place. Continuing to examine myself, I saw in my shaking hands a rather large bottle. How much did I drink?

For some odd reason, my brain kept telling my legs to keep moving forwards, though my mind seemed to be stuck in tar. How long had it been since Christine left?

I looked around, perhaps in search for a clock that might have "3 DAYS" written clearly on it for my convenience, though I only was met with a few confused looks from midnight strollers.

"Why're you ou'side? I's mush too late," I slurred at no one in particular. Or, maybe I was only talking to myself. This was normal right? To fall into an emotional pit, and to fill that pit with alcohol, so that I could find a good reason to talk to myself?

Where was Christine?

That's when the anger started to build up in my chest. I could feel the heat pour from my fingertips, my legs, my mouth, my eyes, and my heart; suddenly, my entire body seemed to be consumed with a raging fire. _Oh no._

Becoming aware once more of the mostly empty bottle in my fist, I hurled it with a bellow in a direction that seemed to be the left, though everything was starting to spin, so it was hard to tell.

I heard a light shriek which only made me angrier.

"Oh, _shut up!"_ I shouted to whoever the faceless voice was.

"You've cut me!" The voice shouted.

I squinted in the general direction of the voice, and my rage started to reach my mind. I could only see brown curly hair and a damned blue cloak. _Oh no._

A scream pierced the air.

 **A/N: Ayyy, so there was Erik after a few too many drinks, and after a bad "break up". I'll try to post regularly, but if this is your first time reading my stories, just know that i'm kind of bad at leaving big gaps of time where I don't update, and then i have random spurts of time where I update nonstop and it's kind of annoying so apologies in advance for that...**

 **Anyways I would love to hear from you on the first chapter (even though there's not really much to it)! Please favourite and follow! See you in the next update!333**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: AY! first actual chapter is finally up! This is my first time writing from the perspective of a character that was already created (Erik) so please go easy on me! I don't think his voice is totally right in this chapter, and I hope i can develop it better in the chapters to come, but please please please give me feedback on my writing! I'd love to hear what you have to say on how I portrayed Erik! Thank you guys so much for reading! Enjoy!**

 **(I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or the characters that are in it)**

I must have been staring at this candle for at least half an hour. Time moved painfully slow now to a point where I was starting to reconsider staying in the damned Opera House.

When the mob found my lair that night four months ago, I had managed to hide for a decent amount of time before Madame Giry was able to convince them that I had left for good. They managed to seal a few of my more obvious passageways, though many of them were left untouched, as they were hidden in some places that most people did not know existed in the opera house.

Though I was thankful that I was able to keep what I call my home, I noticed how things were not the same. I felt like a ghost- a _true_ ghost- of those memories from that night, many months ago. It took me a while to stop sulking, and to continue to compose and write my operas, though that was only what I could do. Christine was gone, so I had no one to teach, Carlotta left, so I had no one to bother, and I was supposed to be far away from the opera house. Sure, there were those two poor excuses for managers, but I realized I would be in more trouble if I made reappearance. So I decided that I needed to retire from being the opera ghost, at least for now.

I did keep an eye on the happenings around the opera house, though. I made sure to notice the new cast members, and I often watched the performances, though unfortunately not form my normal seat in box five. I'm surprised they didn't make a joke out of it yet. I could see the ads in the newspapers: "Come sit with the Phantom of the Opera in Box Five- the most haunted spot in Paris!" Or, perhaps it was too soon for that.

I did have Madame Giry to keep me company. Her daughter, Meg, still believes me to be gone, due to her close friendship with Christine. Madame Giry tried her best to visit me, though those visits have started to become less frequent.

Sighing, I unnecessarily blew out the melting candle, and started to stand when I heard singing. Was there a performance going on? How late was it? That was another downside to being "missing". You stay hidden away for so long that you forget what time of day it is.

I decided it would be nice to stretch my legs, so I put on my black cloak, and found an exit.

It turned out it was only a dress rehearsal, but I decided to stay anyways. The lead singers weren't _horrible;_ they just did not have the same talent as Christine. _Damn._

I had promised myself a long time ago to not bring her up- to stop _pining_ over her. I was doing quite well actually, but I couldn't help thinking of her whenever I heard music. I suppose I am… happy for her: happy that she is happy. That was the whole point of me letting her go that one night, right?

I shook the memory from my mind, deciding that that was too dangerous and painful of a thought to linger on. I had only just convinced myself that everything that happened that night happened for a reason, and I wasn't about to let that small piece of comfort go. I forced my mind and my eyes to watch the stage from my position above the new chandelier. Thanks to the railing, and the chandelier, I had managed to be out of sight from anyone down below.

The chorus had started to march onto the stage with the two leading singers, all singing a cheerful song about love or something of the sort. While the actors and actresses were continuing with their rehearsal, everyone else was quietly bustling about around them, trying to finish the set. At the moment, they had two benches, and a rather large and solid papier mâchée tree.

I continued to mentally criticize the opera, noting the faults and the strengths of each singer, when my thoughts were interrupted. A shout and a handful of screams could be heard as the sturdy tree came crashing down on two of the members of the choir. I almost stood up at that moment, wanting to lean over the railings, and gain a closer look, but I decided to remain hidden in my place.

"Who did this?" Madame Giry asked in a stern voice as four or so other chorus members helped their cast-mates out from under the painted brown trunk of the tree. "Where is John?" she shouted. John was Joseph Buquet's replacement. I had never bothered learning his last name, as I hardly saw him enough to deem it necessary. He was a younger man, though was able to get his job done quite effectively in fact. I was actually surprised that he had let this happen.

John appeared from backstage, and explained to Madame Giry how he was helping someone fix the pulley for the curtain, and was nowhere near the tree when it fell.

"I just don't understand. That tree is almost as solid as an actual one. It couldn't have fallen on its own." John said, walking over to examine the tree. The two chorus members had managed to escape from underneath the tree, but both seemed to still be in shock.

That's when I noticed the young Meg Giry. She attempted to whisper something to her mother, though everyone, including myself, had somehow managed to hear it. "Was it the Phantom of the Opera?"

The question echoed throughout the theatre, and everyone froze.

"Nonsense! The Phantom disappeared months ago, and if you still believe he's here, you must be mad." Madame Giry replied firmly, and loudly enough for everyone to hear. I did hear a tone of doubt in her voice though. There was a high chance I would gain a visit from her tonight about this, though I hope that she would believe me when I tell her that it was not me who sent the tree crashing.

I did wonder who it was, though. _Someone_ must have pushed it down _._ But who could it have been?

I waited for the rehearsals to finish, the actors to stream out, the maids to finish cleaning, and the candles to be put out before I started my search.

I carefully and quietly snaked through the backstage, peering around every corner, and looking behind every curtain. I even checked my own hiding places in between the wider walls, and below the stage, but I couldn't find anyone. They had most likely already cleared out from the opera house after their act of "rebellion". I honestly had no idea as to why I was so curious about this matter. It was probably some idiotic stagehand that pushed it over for some reason. Yet, I continued to search the theatre, hoping to find at least _something._

That's when I started to hear it: the _humming._ At first I figured it was just a member of the chorus, but then I remembered the time of day it was. Everyone should have left the opera house hours ago. I swiftly made my way from underneath the stage to backstage once more. The humming seemed to be coming from the stage, but when I slowly opened the curtain, there was no one there.

"I'm up here you know," A soft voice interrupted my search, and for a brief moment, my heart flipped in surprise.

My head snapped up, and there, on the catwalk, were two bare feet swinging back and forth from the edge of the wooden platform. I stared at the pale feet for a moment, perhaps assuring myself that they would stay put while I made my way up there. I took the shortest route I knew, and I found myself at the far end of the catwalk, and staring at a dark haired woman, clad in a simple grey dress that she had brought up to her knees to allow her feet to freely swing from the ledge. I noted the pair of matching shoes resting by her side.

I tilted my head, and kept a threatening look in my eye, " _Who are you?"_ I hissed through my teeth. I wasn't going to show this woman kindness. I had no idea who she was, or whether or not she was the person who I was looking for.

"Do names really matter?" she asked, as if it was a genuine question. She shrugged, almost in a childlike manner, and looked back to her toes that continued to kick through the air.

I narrowed my eyes. I did not want to play games with this woman; she had no right to avoid my questions. Did she even know who I was?

"Well, no. I take that back. I think names _do_ sort of matter, don't you think? I mean they're definitely part of whatever it is that is important. What _is_ it that's so important though? Identity? That sounds somewhat right. But what about… no… Now, there are always the false concept of physical appearances…" She trailed off, thinking about some other ridiculous idea. Was she drunk? I decided that I didn't care. She was rude, and I was angry. No, I wasn't going to kill her; that would definitely make all heads turn to me when she was reported missing. I would simply frighten her.

I reached for my lasso, which I still kept loosely looped through the belt of my pants in case anyone braved the depths of the opera house. I began to walk towards her, making sure she was aware of every threatening step I took towards her. However, she didn't seem fazed by this. She simply looked at me, then my lasso, then back at her toes. I was behind her, when I held the lasso over her head, almost resembling a halo, yet she somehow managed to spring to her bare feet, completely avoiding the noose, swiped her shoes, and quickly ran away. How was she so fast?

She looked back at me and squinted, as if she was confused or possibly thinking of another ridiculous thought, then she vanished.

 **A/N: SO, what did you guys think of the first actual chapter? how did you like Erik's voice? i'm definitely going to try to develop it more and make it sound more sophisticated and mature, and i really was going to try to plan out his vocabulary more, but i just ran out of time:\ Anyways what did you think of this mystery girl? How did you like the sneak peek into what her personality is going to be? I guess I kind of made her a little childish but that's not supposed to be the defining trait that she has, but I guess she'll be easier to make out in the later chapters:) But yes, please tell me what you think of this chapter/the story so far! I know there's not much yet, but i'll try to write as much as i can whenever i can! But I do take feedback pretty seriously I love hearing from you guys about my stories and I do take into account what you have to say if it's definitely something that i can change/improve upon. Again, thank you guys so much! See you in the next chapter!  
Don't forget to favourite, follow, and review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while, but here's the next chapter! Enjoy!**

 **Don't forget to favourite follow and review!**

There was a strange sort of commotion around the Opera House. Not the exciting kind of commotion that lead up to the premier of a new opera, or the announcement of a new Prima Donna; it was a paranoid and nervous sort of commotion that set everyone scurrying off to bed a few hours earlier than normal for fear of what was in the dark. Everyone around the opera house had seemed to latch onto the idea that _I_ had returned, and that I was out for blood. Of course, I was completely innocent in this situation, and I had to confirm that to a furious Madame Giry, but I think I knew who was causing this trouble.

Ever since that strange encounter with that woman, I had an odd feeling that it was she that was causing this panic. I'm not sure how I knew this, but I could tell that she was troublesome. I had never seen her before in the opera house until that evening. Where had she come from? She couldn't have any relation to any of the performers, could she?

Risers collapsed, backdrops plummeted, and at one point the candles in the chandelier mysteriously blew out during rehearsals. All the signs pointed to me, and for a brief moment I was worried that a mob would return to my home to try to kill me again.

She was mysterious, and I was drawn to mystery like a moth to a flame, so, I decided that whatever this was needed to stop as soon as possible, and that I needed to find her. So, as soon as the theater was clear of guests, and the performers were tucked away in their dormitories, I found my way to the catwalk above the stage again, though I was disappointed this time to find it empty. It was rather stupid of me to think that this woman would stay in the same exact place that I had originally found her, but she seemed like the type of person to return to one place.

I looked down to the stage, and let my eyes wander to the velvet seats that were each lined up carefully and perfectly next to one another. What caught my attention was the dark grey form seated exactly in the center of the ground seats. I squinted, trying to confirm that it was her, and it was, only I noticed that she was also crying.

Confused, I quickly and quietly made my way to her row, and stood watching her, trying to see if she noticed me, and she must have, as she gestured to the seat next to her. I decided it would be best to leave a space in between us, so I took the one next to her offered seat, leaving one between us.

I only then noticed that she wasn't crying, but _sobbing._ Her palms covered her eyes and entangled themselves into her dark hair while her tears dripped from her nose, and left dark circles on her grey dress.

"Are you…" I trailed off, not knowing what to say. I came here to question her, and to hopefully make her leave. What should I do now that she is crying right in front of me? I considered myself to be somewhat of a gentleman, and I wasn't going to add to her pain by threatening her at the moment. So, I sat there, not knowing what to do.

"I'm fine, thank you." She said, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. She held her chin up, and let her hands drop to the arm rests of the chair. "But, you probably know that that's not true," she breathed, as if realizing the fact herself.

I waited a few painfully silent moments before mustering up the courage to attempt to comfort this woman. "What's wrong?" I questioned, trying to mask the confusion of my own behavior in my voice with genuine concern.

"You don't need to try to comfort me. I know you're angry with me," she continued to look to the stage, as if she was watching her own personal performance.

I formed my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms as I tried to think of what to do next. What would any other gentleman do in a situation like this? I raked my brain, trying to pick out some sort of idea from the books I've read, the operas I've watched, the things I've seen. Then, the thought came to me.

I unclenched my fist, and slowly reached over the extra seat between us and towards her resting hand on the armrest. She looked down at my hand and hers, the distance between them growing less and less, and her eyes growing wider and wider. Then, before my hand even met hers, she snatched her hand away from me, and stood up. I looked up at her, confused. People usually need physical touch in a time of distress; it was just a fact of life. Why did she pull away?

I stood up quickly, and adjusted my suit while giving her a puzzled look. She blinked a few times, and opened her mouth to say something, though no words came out. Her mouth snapped shut once more, and then she ran off.

 **A/N: Ohhh so who do you think this mystery girl is? What did you think of Erik's attempt at comforting her? What did you think of the chapter/the story in general? Please let me know in the reviews! Every one really helps to show me what i'm doing right and what i'm doing wrong. Thank you guys so much for reading this story! just a heads up, i don't know if i've mentioned this in any of the other author's notes, but i intend to make this story pretty short so there probably won't be more than twelveish chapters? i'll have to check again on that because i have the whole plot written out in chapters and i think the number was around there. i hope that's okay with you guys but i'm pretty sure the story would be better off by being short (you'll see). Anyways, i look forward to hearing from you all and to see you in the next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I've posted! I've just been busy with school. i've actually been writing this chapter for quite a while, adding a few paragraphs here and there:)**

 **Anyways, please let me know what you think in the reviews! i'd love to know what was going through your mind while reading this story! Trust me it helps:)**

I had never in my life been this _bored._ I felt like a child, moping about with no shiny toy to keep me occupied. I had composed, wandered, and watched all of rehearsals for today. I sat on the balcony in the dome of the theatre; my back against the wall, and my bony legs nearly reaching the thin metal bars that separated me from the new chandelier and the straight drop onto rows of velvet seats.

My mind wandered to that odd woman from the night before. She seemed so _sad._ I do not believe I had ever witnessed someone in so much grief at one time. Yes, I myself had gone through pain and heartbreak, but most of the time, I found a strong drink to make me forget about that pain and heartbreak, and a mask to cover the physical scars.

I wondered what it was that could have struck her with such sorrow. I paused at this moment of curiosity. I didn't usually become curious of other people's emotions. I usually try to avoid them, finding them unstable, and therefore untrustworthy. Yet, somehow my mind kept wheeling back to this woman. Who was she, anyway? Maybe next time I shall get a name from her.

I peered past the chandelier's sparkling crystals to observe the last of the ballet dancers slowly making their ways backstage to change for the night. I stood up slowly, letting my bones crack as I stretched my back after sitting in such a position for over two hours. It was late, and I figured it was probably time to make my way back to my home. About five months ago, I would have wandered through the opera house freely in the middle of the night. Anyone that would have heard something from me would have simply jumped and maybe run away, and passed it off as the "Opera Ghost," through a few stories to their friends. But now, if anyone heard a noise from me they would scream and charge after me with a crowd of policemen loading their guns. I truly did miss seeing most of the opera house. I was able to see almost everything during the day, but there was something about the night that made things beautifully different. The hallways would only be lit by the dull moonlight, making it just easy enough for one to see their way across the marble floors that glittered like stars. The theater slept under the blanket of shadows, and the silence that graced the structure made one feel as if they had paused the reality around them, and that they had the world to themselves. It was truly a magnificent feeling that I miss. Hopefully, in the future, I will be able to make a presence in the halls again, only at the latest hours, of course.

I found my way to my home, letting go a sigh of relief from god knows what. I removed my cloak and let it hang from a chair, and loosened my cravat. Eventually, I decided to dispose of the overcoat and the vest as well, throwing the black material over the same chair. After letting go a deep breath, I finally slouched in a high backed leather chair, ready to settle in for the night. I was about to remove my mask, when I heard a voice.

"What a tease," it said. My hand snapped away from my mask, and my eyes darted around my home for the source of the voice. Then, my eyes landed on _her._

There she sat on the bench in front of my organ, with her feet tapping on the cold floor, and a childish smirk on her lips.

" _Excuse me?"_ I hissed incredulously, standing up immediately while smoothing out the front of my blouse.

"You stopped at the blouse? What a shame," she made a _tutting_ noise while looking down to her nails.

This was most definitely _not_ the woman that I saw last night. Was she _flirting_ with me?

I shook the ridiculous thoughts from my head, and started to take steps towards her. "What are you doing in my home? _Leave._ " I demanded, not breaking eye contact with her brown eyes.

"It's alright, I mean no harm. I just wanted to talk to you." She said, pulling a black ribbon from the surface of my organ, and using it to pull her messy brown curls into a semi-neat bow.

"Talk to me about what?" I questioned, narrowing my eyes in confusion.

"Anything."

I stopped to consider this. I _was_ extremely bored, with no one but a stern Madame Giry to keep me company. I also wanted to gain more information about this strange girl. Maybe, if I gave her some harmless facts about myself, she would open up herself to me.

"Fine." I stated, taking a few steps backwards to place myself back in the leather chair.

Her eyes lit up, and she sprung from the bench to sit on a low stool a few feet from my position.

"I know I said names aren't important, but I think I'd like to disagree with myself in that statement. What is your name?" She asked, folding her hands under her chin while her elbows rested on her knees.

"Erik. And yours?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Patience." She said, stubbornly.

I decided to follow this strange advice, and to let her continue.

"Who are you?" She asked, as if she was bursting from excitement over the small conversation we were having.

I hesitated. Did she not already ask that question? I thought some more before putting together an answer. With a heavy sigh, I stated, "I am the Opera Ghost."

"No you're not, and you didn't answer my question." She sighed, crossing her arms across her chest.

I was slightly taken aback at her remark. "What do you mean I'm not the Opera Ghost?"

"You're just not. That's not who you are," She replied simply, as if explaining to a child. "So who are you?" She pressed.

"I'm…" I hesitated once again at her question, "I'm a musician," I contemplated once more before revising my statement, "an artist".

"That's wonderful," she beamed.

"May I ask you a question?" I asked hopefully.

"Depends what the question is," she shrugged.

"Why are you here? In the Opera House, I mean."

The woman froze, and her face contorted into one of great thought. Eventually this expression morphed into an expression that reflected pain and heartbreak.

"Why are _you_ here, Erik?" She then looked at me with sad eyes that she struggled to cover up.

"I believe you are avoiding my original question-"

"No, Erik, _why are you here?"_ she seemed to be putting great amounts of focus into her words, yet none of her focus was directed towards the question itself. She seemed to be attempting to distract herself from something.

"Um," I trailed off for a moment, hesitating as to what I should say, "I live here?" I responded, unsure if this answer would be acceptable to her.

She let out a short breath, and seemed to relax the slightest bit before pressing the question, "why do you live here?" Her grip on the edge of her chair loosened, but still seemed to be quite tight.

"It is the only place where I am… comfortable," I explained to the woman and she seemed at ease with the answer, and released her grip from her chair, and the rest of the air in her chest. Her focus was turned back to me, and the light expression returned to her face. That was odd.

"That's interesting," she said, grinning to herself.

There was a small moment of silence that I took advantage of. I was gaining no new information from this conversation, other than her odd behavior.

"Please, could you tell me your name?" I almost begged.

I wasn't expecting her to stand so suddenly, and when she did, I sprung to my feet as well, unsure of what was happening. That dark shadow returned to her eyes, which only added to my confusion. She only shook her head, then disappeared into one of the tunnels.

 **A/N: Ohh, so we see a darker side to this mysterious woman... What do you guys think of her though? Like i said before, i'd really like to hear what you all were thinking when you read this story! I really look forwards to reading all of your comments, and they always put a smile on my face:) that doesn't mean that you shouldn't leave more critical comments as well! I LOVE constructive criticism and it really helps my writing:) just make sure it is constructive (so basically don't just say that "it sucked" tell me WHY)! Also, i don't mean to sound cocky, but please spread this story around a little more! It's not getting as much love as my other poto fanfics unfortunately and i don't want it to die out! Tell your poto friends about it, mention it on tumblr or instagram! and let me know if you do!:D Thank you guys so much for reading this story! i'm really looking forwards to writing more of these two together (spoiler: next chapter you might get a name for our dear mysterious woman)! Don't forget to favourite follow and review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N:_** **It's been a while (sorry about that). I've been busy with school and stuff (exams are next week). Enjoy the chapter and please leave reviews! Your feedback really helps!**

 **Thanks for reading:) Enjoy!**

 _Damn!_ I thought to myself as I watched her disappear into one of the tunnels on the far side of my home. I would not let her escape this time. For once, we were actually having a conversation, and she abandoned me before I could even learn her name. I quickly stood then swiped my cloak from the armrest, fastening it around my neck as I broke out into a run in the direction of the tunnel. I ran quickly, occasionally catching brief flashes of dark grey as she turned through the tunnels twisting paths. I saw her round a corner and dash down the long corridor that I knew lay in that direction, but as soon as I followed that same corner, she was nowhere to be found. I contemplated for a moment, wondering where she might have gone. It was a straight path to a set of stairs that lead to a small location underneath the stage of the opera house. It was impossible to have run that quickly down such a long corridor. Instead of furthering my confusion on the vanishing of this woman, I decided to continue down that path. Some way or another, she managed her way out of it, and fairly quickly at that.

I came to the narrow stone steps and quickly took them two at a time. I found myself surrounded by darkness as I emerged underneath the stage. Continuing through the different routs, I eventually came to be backstage, where I carefully peered out from the heavy velvet curtains to scan the theatre.

The deep red seats remained empty. I made sure that my eyes rested on every hidden seat and private box before I remembered: _the catwalk._ I looked up, and was hardly surprised to see a pair of bare feet dangling from above.

I let a smirk rise to my lips as I quickly found my shortcut to the catwalk, and began walking on the narrow suspended floor.

The woman had a sad and plaintive look in her eyes as she watched her toes swing back and forth. This felt very much like my very first encounter with this girl, except this time, I seemed to be… calmer? I felt much lest hostile towards this woman and I'm not sure why. Hadn't I wanted her out of my opera house only a few hours ago? What had happened since then?

I slowly approached her, afraid she might get up and run again.

When I thought I was at a safe distance away from her, I slowly and carefully sat on the floor just a few feet from her, letting my legs dangle from the high catwalk as well. It felt rather childish to do such a thing, but I figured I needed to make this girl trust me if I wanted any answers.

"Why won't you tell me your name?" I asked after a few long moments of silence.

She looked at the empty space between us, almost as if she was afraid of looking into my eyes. _Why?_

I quickly shook the ridiculous question from my head. Why _wouldn't_ she be afraid to look into my eyes?

I couldn't help but let the original question linger in my head. She had been so charismatic the first time I had met her. Then, it was as if she was crumbling the second time I had met her. After that, she was extremely confident, and now she was back to a similar sad state.

"It's Marie," she said quietly, "but don't you dare think you're going to get a last name." She finally looked into my eyes.

"I wouldn't dare do such a thing," I smirked. I paused, confused at my own words. Did I just joke with her? What an odd feeling. If I had been with Christine… I stopped that thinking immediately, worried where that would lead me. My mind began to flash back to that night she left. Then it moved forward to three nights later when I had consumed so much alcohol over those past few days, I could hardly follow a single one of my thoughts. That is, unless that thought was related to Christine…

"What are you thinking right now?" Marie asked, tilting her head in a curious fashion.

"Nothing," I grumbled, starting to get up, when Marie's eyes started to widen as she pleaded for me to stay.

"You can't leave now! I've just given you my name! We're supposed to talk about each other's lives and-"

"-And _what?_ Become _friends?"_ I spat at her, already standing back up. However, as I looked back into her dark eyes that were pleading back up at me, I found myself softening, and sitting back on the catwalk.

"Good, now tell me what you were thinking. You looked sad, and scared, and… what was that last one?" she paused a moment, putting a finger to a chin before deciding upon a word "I think it was sorry?".

I clenched my jaw, and contemplated over the situation I was in. Would it really hurt for her to know? She knew where I lived, knew that I was the "Opera Ghost". What more could I lose? She could of course go running to the police, and turn me in, but something told me that that was something that she would not do.

So then, after a deep breath, I began to tell my story. I mainly focused on Christine's involvement in my story, as it seemed to be the most recent traumatic experience in my life. Marie listened quietly, occasionally chiming in with a question. Other than that, she remained silent. It was somewhat therapeutic to tell someone everything that had happened from _my_ perspective.

When I finished with my story, I let my eyes wander around the theatre as they avoided Marie's eyes, afraid of what they might see.

" You told that story as if it was your _life's_ story," she said, as if she was only talking to herself, "but it's not. You need to understand that your life doesn't end there. Sure, right now, you feel like hell, but your life will move on." She finally looked towards me.

I let my eyebrows furrow as I finally looked towards her. She didn't seem to be mocking me. She seemed rather serious actually.

I sighed, knowing that what she said was most likely correct. I needed to let Christine go didn't I?

I heard Marie take a breath, like she was about to speak, so I turned to her. She let the breath release, as she searched for words, her brow furrowing in thought. I smiled faintly at the sight.

She finally turned to me, and looked me directly in the eyes before saying in the most genuine tone, "I'm sorry".

I briefly looked away before looking into her eyes once more, the faint smile remaining on my face,"Me too".

 **A/N: Do I smell friendship? Oh god I'm so excited to write the very last chapter of this story. I know exactly how it's going to end and I really hope you guys enjoy it! Please let me know what you think of this chapter or of the story so far! Like i said, feedback really helps:)**

 **Thanks guys!**


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